


Church

by justasock_x



Series: M A N I A by Fall Out Boy [5]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom!Jaskier, Licking, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Scent Kink, Scenting, Top!Geralt, striptease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:39:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26273488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justasock_x/pseuds/justasock_x
Summary: I am just a human trying to avoid my certain doom.Jaskier lets Yennefer run some tests. The results are surprising.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: M A N I A by Fall Out Boy [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894084
Comments: 2
Kudos: 78





	Church

**Author's Note:**

> Fics in this series are oneshots loosely based on the songs from the album M A N I A, by Fall Out Boy. Not beta-read, all mistakes are my own. Fandom knowledge comes exclusively from the TV series, other fics, and cursory Googling.

“Well what kind of tests?” Jaskier demanded, hands on his hips as he stood in front of the pair and glared. Yennefer and Geralt exchanged amused glances.

“We just want to do some testing to see if regular exposure to a Witcher’s, well,” her eyes glittered, “mutagens, as it were, caused any long-term effects. Some blood testing, semen testing. Maybe some stamina testing.” She smirked, dragging her gaze up and down the bard’s body. Jaskier glared back at her.

“I don’t want exposure to my bodily fluids to be causing you harm, Jaskier,” Geralt said earnestly, gold eyes unblinking. Jaskier sighed, and Geralt knew he had won.

“Fine, but only so I don’t die of some previously unheard of Witcher disease,” he decided, rolling his eyes. Yennefer snickered and flicked her fingers, causing a thin cut to well on Jaskier’s wrist. The bard yelped and glared at her in dismay. Somehow, he had a feeling this was her fault.

“You could’ve warned me,” he protested while she gathered a vial and some cloth, dipping the cloth against the wound and then squeezing at the torn skin so the blood bubbled to fill the vial. Jaskier grimaced when she released him.

“Don’t be a baby,” she sniped back, already turned to her desk and pouring over her notes.

“What is she testing for?” he asked Geralt, who was already bandaging the wound on Jaskier’s wrist. 

“Right now, any anomalies in your blood. I’ve noticed things are off with you lately, Jaskier. Your hearing and sight seem to be getting better with age. You’re stronger and faster on your feet than before. Not much, but something. I need to know that whatever it is, it won’t damage you. You’re shockingly fragile and infuriatingly unconcerned about it, bard.”

Jaskier laughed, and it was like music for Geralt. Since he had been kidnapped, Geralt had been almost overbearingly overprotective, barely letting the bard out of his sight for more than a few moments. He was lucky he could still relieve himself on his own. It was endearing, in a way, that Geralt was so concerned with losing him that he had thrown himself headfirst into being Jaskier’s protector. It was very sweet. It was also incredibly annoying sometimes.

Yennefer was clearly engrossed in what she was doing, so Geralt and Jaskier retired to their room in her current home. The bed was large and comfortable, with golden silks and white furs piled comfortably. Jaskier had immediately made himself at home, building himself a nest of sorts out of the blankets and fussing with them until Geralt had rolled his eyes and tackled the bard onto the bed, ignoring Jaskier’s laughter to press kisses all over his flushed face.

Geralt had spent so much of his long life unhappy, stoic and miserable. Jaskier brought sunshine and color into his world, and he threw himself headfirst into the rush of being _wanted_ by someone as bright and beautiful and alive as his bard. 

“Yennefer wants me to test your stamina,” Geralt reminded Jaskier as the door closed behind them. Jaskier’s bright, mischievous eyes fixated on his face and he smirked.

“Is that so?” he mused, dexterous fingers already playing with the buttons on his fine doublet. “I guess I should assist, in that case. Wouldn’t want to interfere with Yennefer’s experiments.”

“Indeed,” Geralt responded, his throat suddenly dry as he stared at his bard, transfixed.

Jaskier, always a fan of a captive audience, began to disrobe slowly, making a show of it for Geralt. He shrugged out of his pretty doublet, laying the scarlet fabric neatly over the chair in their room before pulling his chemise over his head and baring his chest.

“Gods you’re beautiful,” Geralt murmured, approaching Jaskier slowly and running his hands up the man’s lithe chest, thumbing over his nipples. “Gorgeous.” Jaskier hummed at the attention, but he only allowed it a moment before he stepped back and pressed a hand to Geralt’s chest.

“Stay,” he admonished, shaking a finger as he moved away from his Witcher. “I’m busy.”

Once he was convinced that Geralt would stay put, the bard unlaced his matching scarlet trousers just as slowly, revealing the smattering of hair that led down to his cock, which was already beginning to stiffen at Geralt’s undivided attention. His nipples were peaked from the brief teasing of Geralt’s fingers, and he turned and bent at the waist as he slid his pants and underclothes down in one motion. The pert, golden globes of his ass drew the Witcher’s golden gaze, and he watched unapologetically as Jaskier neatly folded his clothes and set them in a pile.

“You’re far overdressed,” Jaskier noted with a pout when he turned around, but his eyes were full of mirth and he approached Geralt unabashedly, his cock proud between his firm thighs. “Let me help.”

Geralt allowed Jaskier to undress him, unusually pliant as the bard moved him around until he was bare as well and Jaskier could look his fill. His blue eyes were intense as they dragged up the length of Geralt’s body. He started with the Witcher’s feet, narrow and pale, and his gaze slid up strong, scarred legs. He paused at the Witcher’s cock, still soft but beginning to twitch in interest. He smirked.

“Gods, this is a test I think I’ll enjoy,” the bard murmured as he sank to his knees in front of Geralt. The Witcher’s hand immediately went to rest in Jaskier’s hair, not tugging or pulling, just raking through the soft strands as Jaskier settled on his knees. Looking up at Geralt through his lashes, Jaskier offered only a small smile before he leaned forward and licked at the tip of Geralt’s hardening cock. The attention made the Witcher shift forward a bit, and Jaskier laughed, delighted, before he took him into his mouth.

“Your mouth is a sin,” Geralt murmured, voice low and gravelly in his chest. Jaskier hummed in response and the feeling made the Witcher buck his hips slightly. Jaskier moved with the motion, taking Geralt deeper and lavishing his cock with filthy licks and slurps, lips reddening with his efforts. Geralt wanted to tip his head back and close his eyes to relish in the feeling, but he wanted to watch Jaskier’s efforts even more. The bard looked at ease on his knees, loose and relaxed, all of his energy focused on bringing Geralt pleasure. The heady feeling went straight to the Witcher’s groin, and his fingers tightened in Jaskier’s hair. The bard pulled back and licked at his lips, a string of spit connecting him to Geralt’s cock for a filthy moment before it broke.

“It’s not your stamina we’re testing, Witcher,” he teased. “Let me bring you off in my mouth.”

Geralt shook his head and went to his knees with Jaskier, bringing their mouths together and kissing him hard and wet. Their tongues danced lazily for a long moment, hands moving restlessly over one another like they couldn’t feel enough until Geralt pulled back.

“I want to come inside you until you can’t take any more of me,” he admitted into Jaskier’s sweaty temple, moving his lips over the warm skin. Jaskier groaned like he was hurt and tangled his fingers in Geralt’s hair, dragging the Witcher away from him to stare into his face.

“Want to fill me up until I’m leaking you for days?” he purred, eyes dark with lust and mouth lush and swollen. “Make it so no one could ever fill me up as deep as you have?” 

“Yes,” Geralt growled in response, scooping Jaskier into his arms and standing. The bard flailed for only a moment before he wrapped his arms and legs around Geralt, burying his face in the Witcher’s neck to bite and suck kisses along the pale skin. Geralt deposited them onto the bed, right into the center of Jaskier’s cocoon of blankets and furs. The bard relaxed back against the expensive fabrics, falling loose for Geralt to admire. His skin was golden against the silks, and the Witcher leaned down to taste, skimming his nose along the bard’s shoulder and following the same path back with his tongue. 

“You taste,” Geralt murmured against his skin, tongue darting out to tease, “like salt and sunshine. Like the best, most mouthwatering roast.” He pressed his lips carefully to the bard’s jaw and hummed, considering. “Like a good, dry wine. Heady. Thick. A little spiced. Gods, you taste fantastic, buttercup. I could feast on you for days.”

Jaskier let out a thready noise and shivered underneath Geralt’s bulk. “I need you,” he murmured, bringing Geralt’s mouth to his so he could breathe the words right into him. “Please, Geralt.”

The Witcher had always bent to Jaskier’s whims, helpless to his fancy and so he pulled himself from the bard to reach for the nightstand, pulling open the drawer and tugging one of the vials of oil out. He had been less delighted than Jaskier had been when they’d started discovering them around the room, but he had to admit it was convenient when he was only gone for a moment, pressed right back up against Jaskier between one breath and another. Jaskier’s eyes went to the vial in Geralt’s hand and he grinned wickedly. The oil was an indulgence, and he wouldn’t say no so long as Yennefer kept helpfully providing it in her unobtrusive way. It was thick and lightly scented, almost shimmering, and Jaskier swore it warmed when Geralt was fucking him. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” he teased, hands resting on Geralt’s shoulders. “Open me up for you, Witcher. Let’s test my stamina.”

Geralt groaned and moved to settle between Jaskier’s spread legs, pressing his forehead to the crease of the bard’s thigh and breathing in the scent of his arousal. His tongue darted out to taste, and he chased the scent right to the tip of Jaskier’s reddened cock, flicking his tongue over the crown before he slid a finger inside of Jaskier and took his cock into his mouth. Jaskier let out a moan and his thighs went tense around Geralt’s body. The dual sensation was intense but Geralt didn’t stop, pressing forward through the twitching muscle until his finger was buried inside.

He let Jaskier’s body tremble and adjust for a moment, just cradling his cock on the tip of his tongue. When the bard relaxed, Geralt slowly began twisting the finger buried inside of him as he started a slow, comfortable rhythm with his mouth. Jaskier was gasping as Geralt worked him open, but Geralt ignored him and focused on his task. When Jaskier was comfortably taking three of his fingers and his cock was leaking copiously onto Geralt’s tongue, the Witcher pulled back. Jaskier was covered in a light sheen of sweat, glowing and beautiful and smelling of lust and spice and summer. Geralt crowded him in, breathing for a moment before bringing their mouths together.

“Alright, little songbird,” he murmured. “Are you ready for me?”

Jaskier made a soft noise and wrapped his arms and legs around Geralt, and the Witcher guided himself to the bard’s ready, lax hole. Watching his face, Geralt slowly guided the length of himself into the bard in one firm thrust, stopping only when he could push forward no further. Jaskier groaned and twisted, fingernails biting into Geralt’s shoulder before he took a deep breath and slowly let his eyes focus on Geralt’s face.

“Fuck me, Witcher,” the bard demanded, hips beginning to twitch. Geralt needed no further encouragement, and Jaskier dug the heels of his feet into the small of Geralt’s back as he was fucked into the opulent bedding surrounding them. Even his human senses could smell the pair of them entwined - a hint of dust and sweetgrass, leather and buttercup, mingling in his nose and in the sweat making their bodies slide together effortlessly at Geralt’s steady, hard pace.

“Gods I could fuck you forever,” he groaned, and his hips stuttered as he came, filling Jaskier with hot spend. Jaskier let out a whine and grabbed his own cock, wrist twisting briefly before he came with a wounded sound, splattering his fingers and belly with his seed. Geralt’s motions slowed but didn’t stop, and Jaskier watched him with a dazed expression as his still-hard cock drooled against his thigh.

“You can take more of me, can’t you?” the Witcher crooned as he leaned down to cage Jaskier between his big arms, pressing their foreheads together and watching the bard’s expressive face. “You can come for me again, take more of me inside of you.”

“Yes, yes I can,” Jaskier managed, tilting his head to press a kiss to Geralt’s jaw. “I want it, Geralt, please. Give me all of you.”

The sun was rising and the bed linens were thoroughly ruined by the time Jaskier fell asleep against Geralt’s chest, his body sore and sticky and utterly spent. In the end, Geralt had coaxed five orgasms from him and Jaskier had allowed the Witcher to collect some of the seed in a vial for Yennefer. Geralt watched Jaskier sleep and marveled at this sturdy human, his insatiable need for more of anything he could get his hands on: more sex, more wine, more adventure, more of Geralt and the feeling of them pressed together. 

Geralt couldn’t sleep, and so he laid with Jaskier for a while before resigning himself to getting up. He left the bed silently and went into the adjacent wash room, heating some water with a blast of _Igni_ and washing perfunctorily. He only ever took joy in bathing when Jaskier was with him and they turned it into foreplay - long, sensual washes of bodies and hair and faces leading to wet, clinging kisses and sometimes, fucking right in the tub. The Witcher glared down at his traitorous cock, twitching with interest at the pleasant memories. He’d fucked Jaskier for literally hours and come inside the bard an impressive four times before Jaskier hadn’t been able to take any more inside. His belly had been firm and a little distended, and Geralt had soothed his sore cock and hole with gentle licks of his tongue, sweet presses of his mouth in secret kisses. 

Shaking himself from his thoughts, he dried and dressed and went in search of Yennefer, plucking the vial of Jaskier’s spend from the nightstand where he’d tossed it carelessly before lying down. Following the scent of lilac, Geralt found the mage in her work room, pouring over notes and occasionally pausing to glance at a small, boiling pot. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, setting the vial next to her and taking a seat in one of the plush armchairs in the room.

“Studying Jaskier’s blood,” she answered, chewing her lip. “It’s not completely human blood, but it’s definitely not Witcher blood either. It’s odd. There’s something in here that I’m missing. I may need to gather some more information, but I don’t think Jaskier is human. At least, not entirely.”

Geralt raised a brow. “Well if he isn’t human, what could he possibly be?”

Yennefer shrugged. “I don’t know, Geralt, that’s why I have to do more research.” She took the bottle he had brought and dropped a bit of it into a vial half-filled with shimmery blue liquid. It began to smoke. She made a thoughtful noise and turned to Geralt.

“Did you know your bard is infertile?” she asked, folding her arms.

“He may not have been,” Geralt pointed out. “Witchers are infertile, maybe my seed has affected his.”

Yennefer shook her head. “Geralt I don’t see any traces of mutagens in his blood or semen. I don’t think they’re being absorbed. But something isn’t human about Jaskier, and I need to know what it is.”

Geralt made a neutral noise in the back of his throat. It was worrisome that Jaskier could be inhuman. The bard had never caused Geralt concern, and the Witcher knew that even if his senses missed something, his medallion would not. It had never made any indication that Jaskier was less than human.

“He could just be infertile and human,” he offered. She shook her head and rolled her eyes.

“Honestly, Geralt. The human part could be responsible for the infertility, but there’s still something off about these tests. He’s definitely not completely human.”

“Were either of you going to tell me what this was really about?” Jaskier asked as he meandered into the room, his voice low and even. His hair was sticking up on one side and he was only wearing his breeches and one of Geralt’s shirts.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, standing and going towards him. He stopped short when Jaskier backed away, holding a hand up.

“I’m not _dangerous_ , are you serious?” the bard snapped. The hand he was holding up was shaking. 

“What are you, then, Jaskier?” Yennefer demanded, setting her vials down and crossing her arms. “Because you aren’t just a bard.”

“I don’t know!” Jaskier shouted. The vials on Yennefer’s table rattled. She looked at them and then back to Jaskier. “I don’t,” he insisted, folding his arms. He suddenly looked small and tired. “I’ve always known something was wrong with me. I don’t know what it is.”

Yennefer made a disbelieving noise in her throat, but Geralt went to Jaskier’s side and took the bard into his arms. Jaskier was tense for a long moment before he sagged, letting his arms drop and pressing his face into Geralt’s chest. 

“I wish I could help you. I know that my mother was human and that she was Valyrie’s mother as well. My father always hated me. Maybe I’m a bastard,” Jaskier offered, voice breaking. Geralt rubbed his back.

“It’s okay, Jaskier. It doesn’t matter,” he soothed. 

Yennefer snorted. “Of course it matters. We have no idea what we’re dealing with here, Geralt.”

“I let you run your tests, Yennefer,” Geralt warned. “Leave him alone.”

“So what are we going to do?” she asked, turning back to her vials and fiddling with them. 

“Go to Kaer Morhen. Winter is on it’s way,” the Witcher said with a shrug. Jaskier looked up at him with his blue, sea-glass eyes. He’d never seen that shade of blue on another person.

“Wait,” Geralt realized. Jaskier made a questioning noise in his throat. “Your father. You look identical, how could he not be your father?”

Jaskier shrugged. “I don’t know Geralt. Maybe a shapeshifter fathered me.”

“No,” Yennefer answered, watching them both. “I would be able to tell. Geralt’s medallion would be able to tell. You’re something we haven’t met yet, I think.”

Jaskier swallowed. “Okay. How do we find out?”

Yennefer snorted. “I have no idea,” she admitted. “I’ll have to call in a lot of favors to even get anyone to talk to me about this. Are you sure you want to know?” 

Jaskier laughed, but it was hollow. “I have to know.”

“Okay,” Geralt said, nodding. “We’ll find out.”


End file.
